The Steps
by Kagome-chn LP
Summary: It had turned out to be a deadly game, this one. 8059


**Title:** The Steps

**Author:** kchanlp

**Rating:** PG-13

**Warnings:** Slight OOC; longing… blah.

**Prompt:** V – 16. Yamamoto/Gokudera - love-hate; "I want more than this."

**Summary: **_It had turned out to be a deadly game, this one__._

* * *

He was sitting on his bed, his back against the wall, eyes closed as if in slumber, but still aware of everything near him. His senses were even sharper than ten years ago, so he could hear the faint _tap-tap_ of highly expensive Italian leather shoes as they made their way toward him.

But he thought that maybe, even if he didn't have the training of a swordsman, his heart would still be able to discern the cadence of those steps.

It had turned out to be a deadly game, this one.

He couldn't remember exactly when everything turned out to be like this. He did remember being a teenager, all dreams and hormones, expending time with his friends and playing dangerous games. He recalled a time when being closer was just about "dropping an arm around tense shoulders and laughing carelessly, not even paying attention to the angry stare the other one shot his way".

It was a long time ago, a time before he realized that _maybe_ he liked holding Gokudera way too much; that _maybe_ he thought Gokudera's skin looked really soft and warm; that _maybe_ he wanted to kiss those lips in order to find out if they tasted of nicotine or something else; and that _maybe_, just _maybe_, he wasn't okay with just "being friends" anymore.

He had thought then – had known then – that maybe he had a crush on someone who seemed to hate him to the core, someone who would want nothing but him to disappear. And he laughed, assuming that it was ironic to feel that way and decided to let that feeling go because, really, it was just a crush anyway.

He remembered dating a nice girl in high school that reminded him of his mother, with her joyful personality and fresh appearance. He walked with her around the corridors, kissed her inside empty classrooms, assuring himself that he couldn't be any happier than that. He remembered waving to Tsuna as he passed by an open door...

He also remembered the slight difference in his heartbeat, not really racing, but still blending with the cadence of the lazy footsteps which followed Tsuna's.

That, of course, happened way before he realized that it really wasn't "just a crush" and that dating other people wasn't doing him any good either. Something was always missing, and he couldn't figure out what it was exactly; it always ended up with him feeling even more frustrated than before.

He didn't want to spend his life chasing after Gokudera.

He decided to concentrate in baseball then, leaving their mafia game behind for a while. He remembered training to reach the major leagues, the excitement and all the hard work it took him to become a pro. He remembered being surprised and amused when he had received that first tape from Squalo.

He remembered feeling like a fool, wishing it was a letter written by another Italian with an angry handwriting and signed with a "Come back soon, baseball freak".

He decided to become stronger then. To make his mind and heart stronger, finally dealing with the small pain that came up every time he thought of Gokudera.

But all that happened before their missions, the drinks and those poisoned kisses, before he found out that holding Gokudera made him feel like everything was _right_, before he found out that his white skin felt soft and warm against his calloused hands and that death tasted like nicotine, alcohol and _love_.

That was all before he recalled the steps in his life - which had then led him into this deadly game of love and hate - and he imagined himself saying "I want more than this", more than hidden kisses in a dark room and an empty bedside in the morning. He wanted to prevent those steps of ever reaching his room again…

The padding stopped abruptly and he could hear the careful turn of the door knob, the silent step inside and the soft click of the door closing.

He opened his eyes and felt something similar to relief, because he couldn't wait any longer for those final steps towards his bed and to feel that hand against his face, for those poisoned and drenched lips to silence every dubious word about that deadly game of theirs.

_**Ne hate pas cet acte tendre  
**__Do not halt this tender act  
__  
__**Douceur d'être et de n'être pas  
**__Bliss of my whole and hollow being_

_**Car j'ai vécu de vous attendre  
**__My life lived awaiting you  
__**  
Et mon coeur n'était que vos pas  
**__And my heart who followed your padding feet_


End file.
